The Haps

I was reading the 2005 PGA tour book at the opthalmologist's office yesterday. They have a little bio on each golfer that includes off the course interests. By far, the best was from Jonathan Kaye, who described himself as an "avid indoorsman". I'll use that from now on to describe our friend, the famous William T, the man who says that "nature is itchy".

The reason for the visit with the good doctor is that I am scheduled to have surgery on June 22nd.

For those of you unfamiliar with the saga of the eye socket, I had my left one (eye) removed way back in the Dark Days. The reason was that, back when I was a pup, I had cataracts removed from both eyes at about age 3. The left one hemoraged. So, they had to go back in and stop the bleeding, leaving scar tissue. When that happens, it is usually the case that when you hit your mid 20's, you develop glaucoma. The mechanism that regulates the pressure in the ol' Auge goes to hell. The pressure builds, and builds, and builds, causing very, very, very painful breaks in the cornea and an almost constant dull ache. As I am exceedingly usual, naturally, it happened to me. I lived with it for several years, managing the pain with over-the-counter, bottom-of-the bottle and other means. That was a significant feature of the Dark Days.

Turns out, when they take out your eyeball, the fat in the surrounding tissue gets absorbed back into your body, things settle down and you can end up with a fairly large, empty space in there - like I need more empty space in my head. What the highly skilled, proficient (I keep telling myself that) doctor will do is what is called canthoplasty. Essentially, he will insert a piece of plastic at front of the lower region of my eye socket. There is already an implant at the back of my socket, attached to the muscle, against which my prosthetic eye rests, allowing it to move (more or less) in unison with my right eye. He plans to extend that to further reduce the sunken-socket look that is now a facet of my devilishly handsome mug. Oh, who am I kidding. I look like Mr. Rogers or Randy, depending on who you ask - both fine looking gents in their own right.

As you might imagine, it's done under general anesthetic. I'll schlaf at the Krankenhaus that night, just in case of bleeding. I'll then be on the DL for about a week. Which means I'll be on my ass watching movies. I'd appreciate some suggestions in that department.

While the subject of bleeding from the eye socket is up, I'll continue my longest post ever with a funny story that I only heard for the first time yesterday. This is doubly funny, because it's about me. Let me explain:

Immediately after the removal of my left eye (no overnight stay that time) my mother and my sister, Cathy, drove me from the hospital in Maywood to my home in DeKalb. Along the way, though, I managed to convince them that it would be a good idea for us to stop at Garibaldi's pizza in Arlington Heights and have lunch. That was the high quality painkiller talking. My sister describes me as the unfortunate counter help at Garibaldi's saw me that day: a greasy haired, totally out of it guy in a green army-style jacket with a bloody eye patch, swaying back-and-forth. By her report, the poor guy asked me what I would like and then, as though on cue, blood began seeping out from under the patch and running down my cheek. He looked at her with "a horrified look on his face". She then said, "Oh, we're together. He just had surgery." What else can you say? I even convinced them to stay and eat in the restaraunt. I remember being there, but I don't remember all the blood. I'm sure a few sides of marinara went to waste that afternoon.

There was more severe bleeding when I got home, but I got in touch with the surgeon and she very skillfully directed my actions to mitigate the situation. I saw her the next day. No harm done. I must say that I had the finest treatment throughout that experience. In retrospect, the only thing that I would like to have been differently is to have had an overnight stay for observation. I hope that this doesn't sound sexist, but aside from the anesthesiologist, all of my care was provided for by women. I think that calmed me and put me at ease. I would have sought out that same doctor for this, but I couldn't locate her. This surgeon in Wheaton has earned my trust. Maybe there will be a female surgical nurse that will give me that feeling that mommy is there while I'm under the sleepy juice.

So, it's all set. The only wild card is that in the course of the pre-op physical, my GP found that my blood sugar is low. I went in this morning (well, Saturday now) for some follow-up lab sampling. I'm crossing my fingers that he doesn't put the brakes on this; I've already booked the time off from work and I don't relish the idea of extending the anticipation. It's like that feeling that you got as a kid when you're standing in line for a roller coaster that you've been on before, but you're not REALLY excited about getting on again.

That's it. I'm tired and I have to crash. My rockin' Saturday night at home is over.

Prosper in your various enterprises.